Soul on Fire
by octo-spark
Summary: Fill for the Tintin Kink Meme: Haddock must resuscitate Tintin after an incident in Cuba.  Rated T for slight language


-insert cliche disclaimer here-

My first ever Tintin fan fiction, written for a fill on the kink meme. Please be gentle and enjoy!

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><p>Haddock couldn't remember the last time he felt this helpless and angry as he paced the bank of the large Cuban lake. His unloaded gun in hand dropped uselessly to the ground as his patience grew dangerously thin.<p>

It felt like hours since the acquaintance of Haddock and Tintin, Ernesto, whom they had met in the town nearby, had disappeared under the murky waters of the Laguna de Leche. Had Haddock's mind been in the right place, if he had been paying better attention, it would have been himself searching for his dear friend!

Saying the latest adventure had been devastation was a great understatement. This was a nightmare! Nothing could have prepared the Captain for this a few days, ago before boarding the plane to the foreign country. If he had any idea this would be the circumstance, if his heart were being gripped tightly as by a fist at that time, he would have definitely grabbed his young friend and forcibly decided the trip was off!

But it was too late for that, unfortunately, Haddock realized as he stared aimlessly into the lake in front of him. The only proof of their crash being the small fighter plane that barely peeked from the surface, its engine spewing flames in protest of the battered engine.

He had been so close…So painfully close to heading into that death trap himself before the younger man dove in and disappeared within seconds towards the wreckage. Once the adrenaline began to fade and the sounds of bullets whirling dangerously past his head had ended, there was nothing to keep the Captain's mind occupied; the panic had begun to set in.

Haddock buried his face in his hands, beard tickling his palms momentarily before running his fingers through his hair. His black cap fell with a soft thud to the muddy ground. He wanted to scream, yell, put his fist through a wall if they hadn't been in the middle of nowhere! Thundering typhoons, where _were_ they?

His boots eventually brought him to stand beside his empty gun again. Luckily, the armada that had sunk their plane was small and easy to fight off, yet the thought of being completely out of bullets did not quell the storm of rage that was boiling in the Captains veins. His lad was trapped under that water somewhere, most likely still in the plane! He could kick himself for not noticing the young reporter had not come up with the other two.

Emotions were heavily bringing him to his knees; time quickly ticked away, the waters were still unstirred from the two bodies he knew were beneath the surface.

What in the name of _blue blistering barnacles of banshee_ was taking so long! He would never be able to forgive himself if everything were to end this way!

Haddock gripped handfuls of dark locks, dangerously close to tearing them from the roots with rage before several bubbles brought his attention back to the lake, his feet instantly flat on the earth once again.

Ernesto broke the surface first and the air echoed from the loud gasp from the man. The water stirred around him as his arm circled another body close to his own, soon beginning using only one arm to paddle towards shore. His physique was that of obvious fatigue and breathlessness; it looked as if he was having the most difficulty simply swimming in a straight line.

Haddock's dark eyes grew wide and before he knew it his pants legs and shoes were soaked to the knees with murky water as he found himself rushing towards the two figures. Ernesto grunted with effort as he pulled Tintin's still body above the water carefully.

_Still…_Haddock's breath hitched in his throat; Tintin wasn't moving! It wasn't until Ernesto pressed a hand tightly to Tintin's leg did Haddock catch the red current drifting slowly behind the two. His eyes narrowed; blood was sinking between the other's thick fingers quickly, soaking the boy's plus fours in a disconcerting amount.

He met the two halfway, a scream dangerously close to escaping his throat as Ernesto cautiously passed the inert teen to Haddock.

"He's not breathing, senior!" the native man said, coughing several times and placing a hand on the Captain's shoulder for leverage through the thick water. But Haddock did not hear him. His eyes had already caught the deep red of Tintin's pants that leaked onto his own clothes like a broken dam.

He was finding it terribly hard to breath with the heavy fact staring him in the face, the limp boy in his arms and blood warm against his hand. A few heavy red droplets fell into the water and vanished into pink from the Captains movement. This had been the reason whey the lad did not beat them to the bank, Haddock decided. Why he wasn't moving…

Burgundy blood continued to spill from the fresh would, barely letting up as the calloused hand tightened against the fresh wound. Tintin did not stir which only added to the unbearable concern that was quickly flooding the Captain and causing his poor heart to beat painfully against his ribs. After his feet made it to solid ground, Haddock carefully placed Tintin onto the dirt. A few exhausted puffs of air rattled his chest and hands shook with anxiety from the stillness of the boy.

_Fuck _his gun being empty! If not, there was a good chance it would have been soon, he decided. His anger piqued terribly to the point where all he wanted to do was put a bullet into the heads of whoever wounded his Tintin.

Ernesto dropped beside the two on his knees, winded as well from the limited air he now more than gladly partook in.

"He needs doctor," he breathed while whipping water or sweat from his brow.

Haddock bit his lip, pressed his ear to Tintin's sweater. There was a delicate heartbeat beneath the lad's ribcage, desperately trying to spear life back to it's master with timid thumps.

"There's no time for that!" Haddock nearly barked and placed his hand beneath Tintin's chin and on his forehead; he pushed the lad's head back, tilting it slightly and allowing his mouth to open a tad. A small amount of trapped water spilled from Tintin's lips and drifted down his cheek. Not enough, however, to sooth Haddock's worry.

He begged—no, he prayed—that the lad's unconsciousness was not from the bullet wound. Haddock had no idea where the three of them were! The blood loss was already terrible, soaking the ground beneath Tintin's pants and staining the dirt even darker. Finding a doctor was easier said than done.

He looked to Ernesto, the handkerchief around the man's neck catching his eye. "Give me that."

There was a pause before Ernesto obeyed and handed the dark fabric over to Haddock who quickly tied it around Tintin's wound tightly. It didn't take long for it to be soaked with blood as well, but it would have to do at the time.

Haddock's many years at sea had definitely counted for a few things, and reviving drown crewmembers was indeed a fortunate one. Granted, all men the Captain remembered practicing this technique on had been a grand deal larger than Tintin; he would have to control his strength and emotions to keep from shattering a few of the boy's bones.

When his sleeves were swiftly pushed to his elbows, Haddock wasted no time with tipping Tintin's head back more. He brushed a few strands of hair of the messy quiff from the lad's forehead, unnerved how pale he was growing.

Ernesto watched beside the two with wonder as Haddock positioned himself over Tintin, awkwardness be damned, and straddled his waist with neglect to crushing the injured youth with his own weight. He placed his open palms in the center of Tintin's chest. The blue sweater was soon speckled with purple as Haddock applied several gentle compressions to his chest.

_1…2…1…2…1…2…_

He counted to himself silently; Ernesto hugged himself in the corner of the Captains eyes, obviously at a loss for what to do with himself. Haddock would have generously agreed to have the young man search the grounds for a town. Anything!

Though with only one weapon in position, it made the trio incredibly vulnerable. Especially with one man down.

The area was silent, save Haddock's tight breaths of momentum. A few more compressions were added before Haddock paused, took a generous breath, and pressed his lips to Tintin's cold ones.

He pinched the lad's nose, not allowing any air to escape through the process. The idea of how lovely Tintin's lips felt against the Captains own danced through his mind. Had the circumstances been anything different at the moment, Haddock would not have been able to keep his heart from singing at the close contact.

Sitting up and peering once again at Tintin's lifelessness, Haddock quickly forgot the idea. He took another breath, desperately tried to push life into the lad again. He peered at Tintin's chest, rising from the puff of air and then falling again as Haddock pulled away.

"It's not working,."

Haddock ignored Ernesto; the tear-filled voice was also filled with resignation at the sight. Haddock wasn't giving up, not for an eternity!

Even as his hands stained Tintin's clothes with blood, was most likely causing terrible bruises between the small pecks, and no matter how many times Haddock had to press Tintin's head back to perform the resuscitation, Haddock wouldn't give up!

A few beats passed while he pushed down, let up, pushed down, let up…Precious minutes ticked away, Haddock was near tears as Tintin continued to lie motionless.

"C'mon, lad…" he urged desperately. A single tear slipped down his cheek, fell against the ruined sweater. "Breath, Tintin! Breath…"

Another round of careful exhales, another helpless sob rattled Haddock's chest. "Please, Tintin…!" He rested his head against the lad's shoulder, a split-second passing before he continued again.

His breathing was becoming labored this round. The deep wound on Tintin's leg had become completely forgotten as well as the Captains strength; desperation gripped him as he moved harder, faster, against the boy's chest.

There was no stopping the pathetic shutter of a sob this time. Haddock felt Ernesto's hand on his back, trying to lead him away from Tintin's body. "Please, senior, that's enough. He's gone…" he said sadly, voice broken as tears streaked his face.

For a moment that Haddock would forever regret, he wanted to believe the man and stop. He wanted to cry, scream, rip the head off someone or something as he stared down at Tintin. This couldn't have been the way it ended…

It just wasn't fair.

Not Tintin, the boy who survived so much in their times together. Hell, Haddock had started to believe the lad was immortal after watching him perform the numerous tasks that would have normally landed other's his age in the hospital.

In silence, tears beginning to heavily streak the Captain's face, he felt Ernesto try and wrap his arms beneath the Captain's own. The shove was a bit unnecessarily rough, he would think later, and Ernesto grunted as he was pushed away from Haddock who wiped at his eyes quickly before setting to work again.

He barely took notice of Snowy, who had most likely been whimpering on the other side of Tintin the entire time. He licked sadly at the youth's face, almost at a loss as well as Haddock pumped away with vigor.

"Please, Tintin…" he begged. "By thunder, don't give up on me!"

The dog backed away from the two when Haddock leaned forward again. The air he breathed into Tintin this time seemed much more erratic and unorthodox, the man barely capable of keeping his fingers clamped on the lads nose until…

The several cough and spurts of water, followed by gluttonous gulps of air was the most beautiful sound Haddock had ever heard in his life. All color flooded from his face as he sat up, watching the water spill from Tintin's mouth and eyes screw shut in pain. Like lightening, the Captain was off of Tintin and kneeling on the ground, gently positioning the boy on his side.

Mouthfuls of pond water splattered onto the ground with each cough, and Haddock patted his back with a rough hand.

"Easy, lad." He struggled with the words; the emotions were practically overwhelming after seeing those blue eyes open again, blinking wildly and darting around their surroundings. "It's alright, breath easy…" He gripped Tintin's shoulder with unsteady hands. Ernesto happily chattered something in his native tongue beside them, then stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. He watched with a wide smile as the Captain turned the boy again on his back after the rough coughing had subsided and gather Tintin's in his arms.

"I'll check the area." Ernesto explained, though knew the older man couldn't hear him. "Start a fire to warm him up, too."

Footfall led away from the two on the ground where Haddock held tight to the still gasping lad in his arms, almost afraid it was all too good to be true. If he let go of his boy for even just a moment he would disappear…

The birds around them were chirping again, and the sound of the sputtering engine had quieted and died; Haddock could feel his heart swell as Tintin wrapped his arms around his waist, seeking an anchor of some sort.

"C-captain?" he stuttered and pressed his face into the blue jersey, still gasping for air and filling his lungs with the ever-comforting scent of his Captain's cologne and famous Loch Lomond. "You're alright?"

The question touched Haddock, and he could not stop himself from pressing his lips to the top of Tintin's head. "I'm fine, mah boy…" He ran his hand across Tintin's drenched back. "Don't ever scare me like that again!"

Tintin managed a shaky laugh, but was cut short as realization hit him. "Snowy! A-and Ernesto—!" he gasped and struggled in the Captain's arms, who did not hesitate to hold him closer. He felt Tintin's leg kick, searching for purchase in the dirt before bumping against Haddock's foot.

"Agh!" he yelped and tightened his hold to the other's shirt, nails digging deep from the pain.

"Don't move!" Haddock ordered in a gentle whisper. He placed his hand against Tintin's knee, already wet from where the blood had traveled. "You…you've been shot, lad…" he said, crestfallen.

Tintin blinked several times, as if put off by such a thing, and pulled away slightly from the Captain to steal a glance at his own leg. "Oh…Uh." he groaned and returned to his previous embrace in Haddock's arms. Snowy whimpered again, though his tail wagged with relief and licked at Tintin's hand.

In that moment, as Haddock focused on the timed thump of Tintin's pulse against his palm through the lad's back, something he feared he'd never again have the luxury to revel in again, Haddock couldn't remember the last time he was happier.

Even plane wrecked, stuck God-knows-where in a foreign country and without ammunition, the man couldn't help but smile and listen to Tintin's now-steady breathing.

The familiar voice of Ernesto echoed through the trees after the shadow of an hour had passed, or at least that was how it felt to Haddock. The sound of a fire crackling rang in their ears, and the sun had already disappeared past the horizon when Haddock raised his head from its perch against Tintin's head.

"Captain, erm," Tintin began slowly. "I don't think I can walk…" Haddock could feel the heat of the lad's blush through his shirt, and his eyes softened. "Thundering typhoons! I suppose not."

He was careful in slipping his arm beneath Tintin's legs, making sure not to agitate the injury that had thankfully finally stopped bleeding. He placed another kiss to the top of Tintin's head and began a slow stride to the source of the smoke, Snowy on his heels.

"Let's get you dried off, _mon cher._" Haddock ignored the pain in the back of his knees, focusing only on the way the ginger rested his head on the Captain's shoulder. "And we'll get that leg of yours properly dressed."

Tintin managed a weak nod, utterly drained. "Thank you so much, Captain."

Haddock tightened his hold on Tintin's frame; he ignored the anger that still clawed in the back of his mind over the bullet that rested in his poor Tintin's thigh, all at the fault of unknown enemy; over the fact that it would be staying there until they found a town and doctor; and of course, the situation of being trapped with no means of transportation.

Instead, he focused on the boy in his arms, safe and shivering just a touch as the sun completely disappeared. There was no doubt the feeling that gripped Haddock's heart as he grinned at the contact, but it would be best left to discuss at another time.

All that mattered was there was no doubting it now, after witnessing the boy nearly slip away from him for the first and final time the Captain decided:

He loved Tintin, in more ways than one.

And nothing was going to change that.

FIN.


End file.
